


Goldencock the Thrust

by QuizzicalQuinnia



Series: JB Week 2017 - The Family Jewels Ficlets [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, maybenotsafeforlife, notmyfault, readthetitle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-08 10:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12252462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuizzicalQuinnia/pseuds/QuizzicalQuinnia
Summary: Brienne is traveling to see Jaime and finds an unusual surprise in her carry-on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikkiM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/gifts).



> NOT. MY. FAULT. 
> 
> Mikki dared me. I accepted. This happened. Do not read on a bus/train/carpool where someone can look over your shoulder and promptly experience shock at the fictional habits of such an innocent face.

**Goldencock the Thrust**

 

Brienne stood in the security line, struggling to remain alert after a sleepless night. It was her own fault she’d chosen to dash out of her cozy apartment to head to the airport in the ungodsly wee hours. She couldn’t blame Jaime this time.

Gods, she’d gotten as bad as he was with the separation anxiety, and he’d only been gone a week! It was just that Qarth seemed so far away, and he was supposed to be there on business in the scorching heat for three whole months. She would usually joke with him about his tendency to fly home at random hours from his business trips, just because he missed her, and they had a plan to deal with this newest, longest stint. He would visit every other weekend like the child of divorced parents. She would fly out twice as her commitments allowed. It wasn’t enough.

So it was all her fault, because she’d been the one to text him late the night before with a shy little _Hi._

Next thing she knew, he’d replied with a flight reservation in her name for the first plane to Qarth, and every hour for the last twelve hours, he’d messaged her.  


_Twelve more hours until I see you again._

_Eleven hours until I bite that bottom lip._

_Ten hours until I strip you naked as your nameday._

  
How was she supposed to calm her mind enough to sleep after that kind of teasing? She hadn’t. She was bleary eyed as she shifted her weight to her other foot when the line moved another three feet. It was interminable, the airport busy even at this heinous hour.

A security dog passed by on a long lead, the officer holding it appearing as zoned out as Brienne, his long hair dropping over one side of his face. The dog sniffed each passenger with dedication.

Brienne was watching its velvety ears flop along when the buzzing started.

She glanced around, assuming someone’s phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. The sound stopped soon enough, and the line moved on. An occasional faint  _buzz_  seemed to lurk behind her until she reached the front of the line and showed her passport to the agent.

She removed her shoes and placed them neatly in the plastic security bin, setting her carry-on over them. Her thick gym socks slid along the linoleum as she moved to the scanning machine and waited her turn. When she was signaled into the bizarre tube, her fingertips brushed the ceiling as they always did when she raised her hands over her head, and she towered over the officer holding the metal detector wand. As she was careful about her pre-flight process, there was no trouble.

Until she moved to retrieve her bin from the conveyor. She waited. And waited. She watched two agents behind the viewing screen glance at each other with a hint of concern they tried to conceal, one a long-faced pasty young man with a goatee and the other a Dornish woman with a perfect tan and short black bob. Brienne couldn’t imagine what the hold-up might be. When the Dornish officer moved to speak to her, she realized the hold-up was _her_. How? This had never happened to her before.

“Please come with me for a manual pat down,” said the officer.

Brienne nodded with a mumbled, “Of course,” and followed the dour woman to a nearby area surrounded by screens. One must always comply with security requests.

The pasty officer had followed them and stood near the opening of the screens. Her bin was set on a table. Then buzzing sounded. The buzzing was in  _her_  bag. She had not packed anything that could buzz!

“Extend your arms to the sides and stand with your feet hip-width apart,” the Dornish woman demanded.

Brienne obeyed. The detector wand skimmed over her body as the Dornish woman struggled to reach high enough to scan Brienne’s hair. “Edd, come here,” the officer grumbled, handing the wand to the pasty man who was barely taller. Brienne flushed and bent her knees slightly to aid the process.

“Nothing here,” Officer Edd cheerfully declared. “Bin time!”

Brienne might have smiled over the officer’s peculiar enthusiasm if she weren’t so embarrassed.

“We’ve just got to examine your bag, you see. It’s the rules. Tyene is quick.” Officer Edd seemed sympathetic to her plight, for which Brienne was grateful.

Officer Tyene moved to Brienne’s bin and emptied all the belongings onto the table, her gloved hands carefully lifting the bag. Which buzzed. Brienne’s bag that _buzzed_.

“Please open this bag and remove all the contents.” Officer Tyene was stone-faced and unreadable.

Brienne blinked rapidly as she unzipped her bag. She knew every object inside as she always packed it herself. It was kept ready at all times on the top shelf of her closet. She’d given up pretending that she wouldn’t hop on the first plane available whenever Jaime was away and sent his seat reservation text. It was usually three days in, so at least they’d made it a full week this time! Of course, it worked both ways. When she’d been sent to Winterfell for two weeks, _she’d_ sent the text with the train schedule only to learn that Jaime had already been driving all night to reach her.

It was completely ridiculous, the magnetic pull between them. She blushed as she replayed his texts in her mind to get through this embarrassing security snafu.

There was her shoe bag, her small security-approved liquids bag, her electronics and adapters bag, her two packing cubes of clothing, her underthings bag, and her rain jacket. All as expected.

And an expensive-looking black box with a velvet ribbon tied ‘round it.

She had not packed that box. She had not known the box was inside her carry-on. The box was buzzing.

She looked up at the security officer. “I don’t know what this is,” she said, and regretted it immediately. They would think she was a threat now!

“You did not pack your own bag?” Officer Tyene crossed her arms over her bosoms until a deep line of cleavage appeared between the straining halves of her polyester uniform shirt. Too many buttons were undone, for professionality.

“Yes, I mean no, I mean…yes I packed it, but not this box.” Brienne scrunched her eyes shut as she dug the hole deeper.

“Did anyone have access to the bag, Miss?” Kind Officer Edd stepped around and stood near Tyene, and it was obvious he struggled not to stare at his compatriot’s bursting situation.

“Just…just my…boyfriend.” Brienne glanced at the black box, and it  _did_  look like something Jaime would buy. He was always leaving gifts in random places.

“What is your boyfriend’s occupation?” Officer Tyene asked, lifting a clipboard from a hook attached to the nearby wall and beginning her dossier about the terrible threat from Tarth.

“He’s a banker. He’s in Qarth on business, and I’m flying to see him.”

“I see,” said Tyene, scribbling loudly. “Please open that box.”

Brienne had no other choice, but she hated opening something from Jaime when other people were present. She pulled the ends of the velvet ribbon and momentarily enjoyed the lush texture against her fingertips. The box was sturdy. And it _buzzed_.

She lifted the lid, set it aside and picked up a black notecard with a message typed in gold ink.

_  
I couldn’t resist. You can object when I see you, but I know you’re blushing right now which makes me want you, so I’ll pretend you miss me as much as I miss you and maybe you’ll use it. Which makes me miss you more._

_P.S. I’m probably naked right now._

  
Brienne felt a burgeoning sense of dread. The box shivered a little from the buzzing. So did Brienne.

“Please submit the card for inspection,” Officer Tyene requested. But it was not a request, and Brienne knew it.

She clutched the card to her chest. “It’s…personal.”

“Please submit the card for inspection.” Officer Tyene attempted to glower with all the authority of her position, but she looked rather like an angry kitten.

Brienne handed over the card and turned her head to stare at the beige wall, unable to meet Officer Tyene’s gaze. There was a choking sound. In her periphery, Brienne could see the Dornish woman scanning her, up and down.

“Edd,” the woman whispered, “Read it.”

As if Brienne were not standing an arm’s length away from them both. The beige wall was _very_ interesting judging by the force of Brienne’s stare.

“Well, I’ll be…” Officer Edd muttered.

Officer Tyene cleared her throat. “Please remove the object from the box,” she said in a tight, controlled tone.

There was no hope. Brienne lifted the pieces of sleek black tissue and revealed the gently shivering object that rested on a black velvet cushion. It buzzed.

It was gold. It had jewels on it. It was long and not so slim. There was a pearl on the tip. It buzzed.

“Oh my gods,” Brienne muttered, equally mortified and enraged. And possibly flooded with a little bit of lust.

She had no doubt that the gold was real, that the jewels were real. This the most extravagant, absurd, horrendous gift Jaime had ever purchased, but it was just very… _him_.

It was a golden, bejeweled vibrator. With a pearl on the tip.

Officer Tyene moved closer, leaned over the box, peered inside. Stepped back. Leaned over again. Stepped back and grabbed Officer Edd’s arm and yanked him forcefully toward the table.

There they were, two airport security officers staring at a trembling golden phallus that belonged to _her_. There was silence except for the buzzing and the background noise from the security line.

“Um…please…turn it off and open the…battery compartment,” said Office Edd in a choked voice.

There was laughter there, Brienne knew. She could only that he might be as embarrassed as she was herself. Officer Tyene didn’t seem the sort to know what embarrassment was. Brienne cleared her throat. She lifted the… _thing_  from the velvet cushion and examined it. A quick twist of one end stopped the buzzing and revealed the battery. She slid it out to rest on her palm, displaying the whole lot to the officers as if she held a fragile newborn puppy and not a vastly expensive jeweled sex toy.

“Well…” said Officer Edd, without looking at her, “you see…it looked like a large bullet on the scanner.”

Brienne nodded. Matter-of-factly. She could see the mistake. The thing did indeed look like a large bullet and was made of metal. Certainly. No problem at all.

She stared at the pieces of the vibrator, reassembled it, and placed it back in the box. She re-tied the ribbon exactly as it had been and shoved the damned box into her bag with all her other things.

“Apologies, Miss. Just doing our jobs.” Officer Edd _was_ as embarrassed as she. That was some small satisfaction.

“Of course,” she said as normally as she could manage. “I understand.”

Officer Edd gestured for her to exit, so she lifted her bin and did not look at them.

As she passed between the screen, Officer Tyene whispered, “Giant lady’s got a bad pussy.”

Brienne was going to kill him. Jaime. Her boyfriend. She said nothing and looked at no one as she moved back to the general area where she could remove her gym socks, one by one while balancing on the other foot so she could slide clean feet into her shoes.

Once she was arranged, she headed straight for the postal kiosk and purchased an unobtrusive cardboard box in which she packed the  _thing_. She scrawled a quick note, and sealed the box tight, replacing it in her bag.

She would say nothing about it, and pretend she had no idea in the world what he was talking about if he asked when he inevitably called her before take-off. And he _would_ ask, or slyly hint and prod, but she would not give him the satisfaction. She smiled to herself as she settled onto a too-small chair in the boarding area.

He would still be working when she landed in Qarth. She would have two hours before he could join her at his temporary apartment, quite enough time to have the _thing_  sent by messenger to Jaime’s office. She could do it straight from the Qarth airport. She would mark it “urgent” with signature confirmation.

He would have to sign for the box and read her note of  _Thank you for the kind gift, as I did not have to miss you at all._

She hoped he’d be right in the middle of a meeting.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Mikki! I'm technically only two hours late according to my time zone, so I think that's pretty okay considering the crazy blockage we're all experiencing! 
> 
> I feel that you need more gold vibrator in your life, my dear shippy friend. Whether this is a trick or a treat? You decide!
> 
> Also, so sorry for the un-beta'd nature. YOU are my beta, so...that wouldn't work now, would it!

 

 

Meetings were the worst. This meeting in particular was agonizing, like walking on hot gravel with bare feet. While being followed by a Dothraki Screamer and sporting a sunburned dick.

Jaime nodded slightly and entered a very serious note on his tablet, if _note_ meant an overtly sexual haiku sent to Brienne.

_Smokin’ Bangcity_

_A lower silky lip suck_

_Enjoying the wet_

He smiled to himself. She would hate his dirty little poem, but it would succeed in making her squirm the moment she landed in Qarth and turned her phone back on. Which should be in about five minutes if his flight tracker app worked.

He checked it again. Four minutes. Slightly less than four minutes.

“You’re grinning like an idiot again. Accounting policy isn’t fun for anyone ever.” Bronn’s always-a-little-drunk voice was soft enough to prevent their co-workers from hearing.

“She’s landing. I just want to get out of here,” Jaime grumbled.

“I now know the exact time of her landing, the airline, and the flight number, because you’ve run your mouth off about the countdown for the last eight hours. Tell me something I don’t know.” Bronn turned back to peer with proper deference at Tycho Nestoris, the Braavosi banker droning on and on and on…

Jaime cleared his throat, pretended to make more notes, and leaned very slightly toward his assistant. “She’s in seat 3C.”

Bronn sneered. “Did you upgrade her to first-class without telling her again?”

“Of course.”

“How you can irritate her every minute of the day and not drive her straight back to Tarth is beyond me.” Bronn shook his head and started chewing on a pen cap. The meeting was getting _long_.

“Me too.” Jaime opened the flight tracker again just to force himself into maintaining a half-attentive expression.

Two minutes.

Brienne Tarth was a structured sort of person. If the plane landed in two minutes, she would have prepared to disembark ten minutes before that, so she would be sitting rigidly in seat 3C with the footrest down, the seat straight up, the tray table locked, and her seatbelt tight across her flat stomach. She would wait until the plane taxied close to the gate to turn her phone on. She would not move another muscle until the seatbelt light went off, and then she would count the number of passengers in the rows ahead of her to ensure that she stood up exactly in the right place in line.

That meant she would see his haiku in about five minutes and leave the plane in ten or fifteen. She had not checked her bag as usual. She would be able to hail a taxi almost immediately, so she would be at his impersonal temporary apartment in half an hour. If he could just get out of this damned meeting, he might be able to be there.

It wasn’t looking likely. Tycho Nestoris seemed to have found renewed energy for explaining the nuances of corporate banking and what that meant for shareholding employees. Jaime didn’t give one rat’s ass about any of it. It was bad enough to be stuck in Qarth for three months, but stuck in Qarth with twice-weekly banking meetings was hellish.

Maybe he could feign food poisoning. Or plague. He’d tried the former twice already, and the office was beginning to think he had chronically incensed bowels.

She would be landing now. He knew she hadn’t seen his _gift_ since she’d sent no outraged-slash-slightly-intrigued text before takeoff. It was at the bottom of her carryon bag, a luxe black box containing the world’s most expensive, real gold, jewel-encrusted vibrator.

He had to stop himself from grinning again, picturing her face when she saw it. He _had_ to get out of the meeting or he’d miss it when she unpacked. He’d found it online one night when bored and waiting for her to come home. It was the most extravagant, absurd thing, but really, how could he always claim that Brienne deserved the best of everything and not give it to her?

She would hate it, and not like she would “hate” his dirty haiku. That was fake hate and only because she thought she _should_. Such a prude, the poor thing. Except when they were entirely alone and she allowed him to show her why _not_ being a prude was amazing.

No, she would probably genuinely hate the bejeweled vibrator, but it was going to be _so_ worth it. He had confidence in his ability to persuade her into using it. Probably.

A foot kicked him in the shin under the long boardroom table. He glanced at Bronn who was glaring very slightly.

“Stop that. You look drunk and horny.”

Jaime straightened in his chair. “I’m not drunk.”

“I don’t want to know about your cock. You’re getting to be as bad as your brother.”

Bronn was never one to turn down a challenge, so maybe that was the path. Jaime swiveled as if to show Bronn his tablet notes. “Get me out of this meeting and I’ll get you a better apartment.”

“We’re in fucking Qarth. There are no better apartments.”

“What do you want then?” Jaime was getting desperate. He’d be too late to meet Brienne at this rate.

“Out of this shit heap, a fifty percent raise, a nice leggy redhead with big tits and a twin sister, and a steak.” Bronn nodded with satisfaction and a challenge in his eyes.

Jaime looked back at Tycho who was making sweeping arm gestures in his enthusiasm. “I can get you the steak.”

“Sorry boy, you’re on your own.”

“Someday, I’m going to fire you,” Jaime complained.

“You won’t.”

He couldn’t think of a quick retort, so he was glad on many levels when his tablet showed a text alert.

 

_Landed safe, airport very busy, traffic jams. I might be later than scheduled.  
When do you leave the office?_

He texted back immediately, his fingers too hasty.

_wish I could kiss u.  in fucked meeting for ? save mefrom evil banker? diner? then naked._

 

It took her a whole minute to reply. He knew she would be beet-red and glancing over her shoulder guiltily as if porn had infected her phone.

 

_I would prefer dinner at home and not in a diner._

 

Jaime had to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling.

_good then naked part can hapen soonr. are u naked now? really should wait 4 me._

 

 _He_ had to wait five whole minutes for her answer. S

_I am certainly clothed and now in a taxi. I will shop for dinner since you never buy groceries._

It was the most unjust thing in the world that he had to hear the smarmy voice of Tycho Nestoris and not Brienne’s low, fondly critical tone.

_I miss ur mouth. come to office._

 

_Absolutely not! Complete your meeting, do your duty, and I will be waiting. As I’m distracting you while at work, I’m turning my phone off for the next hour._

_yes boss! did I get my haiku?_

_Stop texting me. Yes._

_u like it?_

_Please spell words….yes._

_knew you would._

_Capitalize._

_I MISS YOUR MOUTH._

_…one hour, Jaime. My phone is now off._

_How can your phone be off when you’re texting?_  


There was no reply. Dammit, she _had_ turned the phone off! He sighed and twirled a pen between his fingers. He glanced at Bronn who was obviously intent on ignoring him. Terrible assistant. He tried to count the moles on Tycho’s chin. Ten minutes passed. He would give exactly ten more before he’d find some reason to leave, because if he had to stay longer than that, he might throw his ergonomic chair through the double-paned glass and jump out.

These ergonomic chairs were not designed for tall people, he decided. It did hit all the wrong spots and made him squirm. Or possibly that was the inconvenient hard-on he was trying to hide even though no one could see his lap.  

He hadn’t even seen her or heard her voice yet either. He was like some sad dog who jumped up and down and wagged its tail when its mistress came home.

Ten more minutes passed. He rolled his chair back two inches, his pants now under sufficient control to risk standing. He decided to tell the truth, that his girlfriend had just flown in and he had to meet her. All alone in Qarth, where she’d never been before. It would be inexcusable to leave her at the mercy of a strange land for too long!

“Ah, Mr. Lannister!” Tycho’s lilting boom filled the space. Ominously. “Do you have your department’s projected budget ready to discuss?”

Oh. The reason he was in this awful meeting to begin with. Of course he was prepared, but this was _not_ the day to delay him!

He cleared his throat. “Certainly. I have all the projections here,” he patted a leather folio with a gold L on the cover, “but I must admit that there are serious gaps in the current data. As I was brought her to assess the department’s needs and modify policy as necessary, I would like another week to make new projections after I have a clearer idea of those needs.”

Jaime flashed his most winning smile and maintained eye contact with Tycho.

Unfortunately, the man was no stranger to the tactic of Lannister charm. He was apparently immune to the flash of anything but gold. “Admirable dedication, Mr. Lannister. However, I see no reason why we shouldn’t begin to _crunch_ those numbers on a preliminary level.”

There would be no getting away. He would have to present the inane data and pretend to care, when all he wanted was Brienne, alone. He opened the ominous folio where tiny rows of numbers mocked him from their glaring white paper.

A knock sounded at the double glass doors of the boardroom. His department’s shared secretary stood outside with another figure behind her.

“Please excuse me for a moment as I see what’s going on here.” Jaime had a flash of genius and turned to Bronn. “My assistant can begin the budgetary discussion so time isn’t wasted.”

Bronn’s glare was like dragonfire, but Jaime didn’t care one bit. He stood and circled the long table until he could crack open one glass door.

“Yes, Pia, what is it?”

The poor girl could barely make eye contact with him because of her lack of confidence, but she was a good secretary and never caused drama. “I’m sorry to interrupt the meeting, Mr. Lannister, but there is a messenger here for you.”

Jaime stepped outside the boardroom and relished the quashing of the budget chatter as the door closed. “Thank you, Pia. It’s no problem.”

A young man wearing a friendly smile and a glaring yellow polo shirt with a nametag on it stood behind Pia, holding a brown-paper-wrapped box in his hands. His name was Peck, and Jaime decided instantly not to make fun of the poor boy for having a name one step away from Dick.

“Good afternoon, Ser. I have a delivery marked _urgent_ that requires your personal signature.” Peck balanced the box in one hand so he could take a small clipboard hanging from his belt and hand it to Jaime.

His signature was a scrawled mess, and Jaime handed the clipboard back with the attached pen swinging side to side on its cord. He fumbled for a large bill in his pocket and extended it toward Peck whose smile widened from ear to ear.

“Thank you much, Ser!”

And Peck handed over the box with the large red letters spelling _urgent_ on all sides. The box jostled a bit in the transfer.

The box buzzed.

There was a buzzing happening, from inside the box. It was like bees were swarming beneath the brown wrapping.

“What in the world…?” Pia’s soft voice floated over.

She had stepped nearer the wall to give Peck space, and Peck looked at her now, matching her puzzled expression.

He knew he shouldn’t. He knew opening this weird buzzing box would bring no good in public, but Jaime was going to do it anyway. It was probably a prank from his brother, or worse, an actual box of live wasps from his nephew. Either was possible.

At least live bees would get him out of the office!

He carefully tore the outer wrapping away. The buzzing grew slightly louder, slightly less muffled. The inner box was black. Luxe. Velvety with a ribbon tied round it.

Oh no.

He knew this box. It was _his_ box. He had hidden it in the bottom of Brienne’s carryon bag. He knew exactly what was inside, and it was _buzzing_.

Buzzing!

Jaime cleared his throat and slowly lowered the box in preparation of hiding it behind his back. Escaping. Running at the speed of a hunted gazelle across the Dothraki Sea.

The double glass doors behind him burst open, slamming into his shoulder. He jolted forward. The luxe black buzzing box with the ribbon tied round it flew six feet away and plunked to the carpeted floor.

“Those budget numbers are too tough for the likes of me to explain, _Jaime_ , so…”

It was Bronn who had brought disaster. Bronn who now stared at the spilled out contents of the luxe black buzzing box. As well as Pia. And Peck. Murmurs happened near Bronn.

Out of the box had slowly rolled one glistening gold object, jewels embedded in it, including one particularly convenient ruby near the…tip. Of the vibrator. The gold, jeweled vibrator he had given to his girlfriend.

Who had sent it by messenger to his office, clearly straight from the airport.

He spotted a perfectly square white card in the mess of the buzzing _thing_ on the carpet and the rumpled packaging. He bent to pick it up, because her words should be his alone.

 

_Thank you for the kind gift, as I did not have to miss you at all._

Jaime nearly dropped the card. His hand clenched around it. His pants tightened. His heart raced. Oh, not for the reasons she would expect, no. She wanted him to be mortified. She sent the _thing_ to him at the office so there would be a chance of other people seeing it. How… _vengeful_ of his loyal, kind wench!

He liked it, this retribution. That she had seen the _thing_ and touched it. That she considered exactly what to write. He was no fool. He knew she would never have used it, but the fact that she wanted him to _think_ she had, bantered about it even, _that_ was sexy as the seven hells.

He wanted her _bad_. And _now_.

But first…

“Peck, is it? Please wait a moment,” Jaime said matter-of-factly, with no hint of embarrassment whatsoever.

He bent to retrieve the _thing_ , turned it off very casually, placed it back on its velvet cushion in the luxe black box, and re-tied the ribbon.

He asked Pia for a notecard which she managed to produce almost immediately despite the fact that her skin was lobster-red and she couldn’t look at _anyone_.

Jaime wrote a response to Brienne’s challenge and tucked it under the ribbon before re-wrapping the brown paper sloppily.

“Peck, please deliver this my apartment as soon as possible. Pia will give you the address. Request the signature of Brienne Tarth and her only.” Jaime pulled another bill from his pocket and smiled straight at the boy.

“Of…of course. Ser. Thank you.” Peck nodded, and Pia indicated that he should follow her down the hall.

Jaime watched them go. If Brienne thought she could beat him in a game of gold vibrator mortification, she had another thing coming.

As she herself would later. Several times.

He had written on the notecard:

_The metal flavor unfortunately conceals your true taste,  
so I’m afraid I’ll have to come to the source for a refresher._

Jaime waltzed back into the meeting as if nothing at all had happened, resuming the budgetary discussion without missing a beat.

Tycho Nestoris listened carefully throughout, only commenting once Jaime was done. “Well, that was thorough enough. And I’m now confident that you, too, hold the Lannister appreciation for gold.”


End file.
